


Kicking and Screaming

by Bebedora



Category: Final Fantasy VIII
Genre: Blood, Character Death, Fire, Guilt, Hurt, I'm a horrible person, Oneshot, Torture, Whumptober, Whumptober--DRAGGED, fighting till the end, kicking and screaming, whumptober2019
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-06
Updated: 2019-10-06
Packaged: 2020-11-25 22:47:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 529
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20919884
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bebedora/pseuds/Bebedora
Summary: One wrong word. That's all it took.  And now, he was being dragged away.





	Kicking and Screaming

Kicking and Screaming

[[Whump-tober prompt—DRAGGED AWAY]]

Squall fought.

The hands on his collar were strong and stunk like gasoline. The same fuel that had been sprayed on the SeeD vehicle and set ablaze moments before. But that didn’t stop him from struggling with all his might against them. Even when the pungent aroma stung his eyes. 

His companions had been inside. He could still hear their screams as they tried to escape the blockaded doors. Smell the telltale stench of smoldering flesh. Feel the heat as the fire became so hot, it vaporized the yellow paint on the car’s frame and the tires exploded.

He had been spared.

Beaten and bloody, all he could do was fight. Grab onto the stinking hands dragging him by the collar. Down the rough gravel path toward what was most likely his death. He would stubbornly refuse anything they asked of him. He would go out swinging. He had to redeem himself.

Squall clawed at the hands tugging on his jacket, threatening to cut off his air supply. Dug his heels into the ground thwart his journey toward whatever awaited him. Thrashed his head to try and bite the fingers curled into the fur lining of his coat.

It was no use.

The massive man continued to drag him down the path, deeper into the forest. The plume of black smoke puffing into the cold winter sky getting further and further out of his line of sight. Soon, the stench of ash and burning metal would be the only cue to him that anything had been amiss.

Everything had gone to hell, and it was all his fault.

One missed verbal cue, one wrong statement. The retaliation had been swift when their cover had been blown, and within a matter of minutes, his friends were dead, and he was paying for his misstep.

They beat him, stabbed him, froze his limbs with magical ice. All to get him to talk. They _just knew_ SeeD was there to infiltrate their ranks, to stop a resistance movement before they got out of hand. The Duke of Dollet was paying dearly, they were certain.

They should have been safely back at Garden by now, having completed their mission successfully. Having a cold beer to celebrate before taking their next assignment. 

But because of one misspoken phrase, to a passerby as they stopped so Zell could pee, everything had failed. He couldn’t even remember _what_ he’d said now, but that was more than likely due to the head trauma from his captives.

Squall Leonhart fought to the end. 

If they were going to drag him through the fire, he would make sure they got burned.

Later, when SeeD recon teams found the site, they would comment on how brave their Commander must have been in his last moments. How he most certainly fought to the bitter end, sacrificing himself to bring honor to himself and his fallen comrades.

And he had. Until he just couldn’t fight anymore.

A bullet to the back of the head, after being dragged away from the scene of his misfortune.

Death dragged him under. 

Death refused to let go. 

Death won.

**Author's Note:**

> Every single one of these Whumptober oneshots I *shouldn't be writing* because I have a book deadline are entirely Saber_Wing's fault. Also, she's an awesome beta.


End file.
